


A Witch's Anger

by commandershakarian



Series: The Witcher [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Iorveth's Path, Vergen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:06:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7697740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commandershakarian/pseuds/commandershakarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little writing for my Witcher fans. Some Geralt and Dandelion fun with an introduction to my OC, Petra Delgaard. Enjoy! This takes place during The Witcher 2 and Geralt went with Iorveth and the Scoia'tael. My Original Character is in a developing relationship with Dandelion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Witch's Anger

The Cauldron was bustling with a mixture of the high and low born of Vergen. Soldiers, nobles, merchants, craftsmen and even peasants would pass the hours there: drinking, fighting, or gambling. It was crude at times, that was true, but that was the way of things. Most nights in a place like this, Dandelion would either drink himself into a stupor, or play dice with whichever noble carried the largest pouch of orens, or flirt a waitress into the closest room. He hadn’t lost his usual delight for the finer things in life. He wouldn’t be Dandelion if he didn’t play his lute to the crowds that gathered around him or drink the best wine or play dice with whoever challenged him. There was someone else who now warmed his bed and it was a shock to him, but he missed her to no end.

Dandelion’s azure eyes lifted slightly from the tankard in his hands, his gaze finding the man sitting across from him. Geralt of Rivia, the famous monster slayer, the witcher that had cheated death, and the man who had somehow become his closest friend. He truly didn’t understand why Geralt put up with his shit most days, but he was grateful to have one constant in his whirlwind of a life.

With a cheerful smile upon his lips, Dandelion lifted the tankard to his friend before taking a long drink of its contents. He wanted to confide in Geralt, but he’d never had a truly serious conversation with him. This could change the entire nature of their relationship. As he placed the cup back onto the table, he noticed Geralt watching him with suspicion. Dandelion hesitated.

“Something the matter?” The witcher asked, his cat-like gaze studying Dandelion closely. He’d easily pick up on anything strange in his friend’s reaction.

The bard sighed and ran a hand over his face. His whiskers scratched the palm of his hand, doing nothing but irritating the skin. He rubbed the spot with his free hand as he considered his words. Finally, he gave up trying to ignore what he was feeling. What good had that done him up until now? “How do you do it?”

Geralt raised an eyebrow and waited for a moment before speaking. When it was clear that Dandelion wouldn’t elaborate, the witcher responded. “Do what exactly?”

“You know…” Dandelion started, waving his hands in the air as if it made his point clearer. It didn’t. “About women and… _feelings_.”

Geralt’s face didn’t register a signal emotion. He was good at doing that. Dandelion knew how to read the witcher, however, and wasn’t surprised by what he said next. “Care to explain?”

“It’s about Petra.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows. “Petra?”

“Yes.” Dandelion wrapped his hands around the tankard in front of him and stared at the amber colored alcohol within. “How do I…” He paused and cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. Geralt waited for him to speak. “How do I tell her that I _love_ her?”

A smile appeared on Geralt’s face as the topic of their conversation revealed itself. Watching Dandelion, a man who prided himself on spinning a tale, struggle for words on what he was feeling was more than amusing. “So that’s who you’ve been writing to every night since we left Flotsam? That’s cute.”

The bard frowned, embarrassed to the point that he looked ready to bolt. “Don’t patronize me, Geralt. This is serious. I don’t know what to do about this.”

The witcher shook his head, a laugh on his lips. He couldn’t help enjoying this moment of vulnerability his friend was showing. To think that Dandelion found someone who he loved him was a relief in more ways than one. And knowing Petra the way Geralt did, she no doubt loved the bard back. “You can’t deny me a moment of satisfaction.”

“You’re impossible.”

Geralt was preparing to shrug his friend’s words off, to continue teasing him before finally finding some kind of advice, no matter how terrible it was, when the familiar feel of magic swept over him. He had expected some sort of fallout from Dandelion’s moonlighting as a spy, but what was coming for him was certainly not it.

The door to the Inn opened with a powerful burst of magic. It hit the opposite wall with a resounding bang, drawing the eyes of every person within. A gust of cool air swept through the room chilling Geralt to the core. Geralt’s golden eyes swung towards the doorway. The woman standing there was terrifying in her presence. Her hazel eyes were shooting fiery glares as she entered, headed right for their table. Dandelion whispered something, but Geralt didn’t hear a single word. His attention was focused on the witch as she approached. Her golden brunette hair billowed behind her much the way her silver dress did as she moved, her pace fast for a human.

“Petra-” He began, but the witcher barely got that out before the witch let loose on him.

“What were you thinking, Geralt?” Petra snapped as she tossed her hands up in the air, frustration and anger mixing into a cataclysm that could rock the very earth beneath their feet. She wasn’t a sorceress, but she was powerful, even for a witch. Geralt could only imagine the things she’d have done as a sorceress. “Sending Dandelion to work as a spy! He could have been killed. _He almost was!_ ”

“But I wasn’t-” Dandelion cut in, but stopped when she glanced at him. She was worried about him, but it was obvious that she didn’t want him interrupting. The bard fell silent and went back to nursing his drink.

Geralt took the opportunity to respond. “I had nothing to do with that. Roche-”

“Ah, yes, _Roche_. Where is the bastard?” Petra’s dark eyes flashed dangerously across the room. The other inhabitants of the inn were avoiding her gaze. Many had moved away from their table to avoid the witch and her anger.

Geralt rubbed the back of his neck, not enjoying being the cause of Petra’s anger. “Roche is… on the other side of the mist.”

Petra’s expression cleared of anger. Instead, she looked weary of what was happening around her. “Roche is… in the other camp? What is happening here?”

“Great things!” Dandelion said, happy that she wasn’t yelling any longer. Then he realized what he’d said and sobered quickly. “Well, some great things, but as usual, most are not so great.”

Petra sank into a chair beside Dandelion. She was exhausted after her long travel. Geralt watched as Dandelion took her hand easily and held it. Petra smiled at him, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him alive and well.

“Petra, let me explain everything.” Geralt began, hoping that she was willing to listen to what he had to say. Even if for a moment.

“Geralt, you’re one of my oldest friends-”

“Oldest? Don’t you mean dearest?” He asked, a smile on his face. Perhaps she wouldn’t curse him after all.

“Don’t flatter yourself, old man.” Petra brushed hair from her face before glancing at Dandelion. “I had a long journey. Care to tell me a story?”

Dandelion nodded, eager to please. He was clearly lovestruck. If Petra didn’t notice it, she would eventually. There was no mistaking it. “Let me tell you about what happened a few days ago. I helped Geralt take down a succubus and…”

Geralt cringed as Petra’s gaze found him, anger in it again. He knew that Dandelion had started trouble again and this time, she most likely wouldn’t back down.

“ _Geralt!_ ”


End file.
